


No Time Left

by Danse-or-Farkas (Markond)



Series: Time Later [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Deleted Scenes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15719088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markond/pseuds/Danse-or-Farkas
Summary: The deleted scenes, the unused chapter and various parts cut from 'Time Later to Put Things Right'





	1. Blindly Betrayed

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was supposed to be right after the 'Last Interlude' and was the springboard for the assault of The Institute.

Day 21 since the incident at Listening Post Bravo

 

 

It was the lead Vertibird that strained first, veering for a moment and trembling to stay upright. Plumes of oily smoke trailed behind its starboard rotors, entirely expected and just as entirely unwelcome.

  
They had just crossed what had once been the state lines, already far passing the distance they had been built for. Vertibirds were not meant to run such long distances without being properly outfitted, something they hadn't needed to do with the Prydwen at their command. Radio chatter back and forth was a mess of reported malfunctions, attempts to figure out just what had happened, and officers demanding they keep that kind of talk off the air.

 

The air vibrated with the thrum of engines as the Brotherhood fleet set down in the shell of what had once been a small town. It was walled in with rusted barricades of old military design, the streets choked with the broken shells of a convoy of flatbed trucks. Sandbags lined the checkpoints controlling the only road in and out.  
  
Those that still had their power armour in working condition had dropped in during a low fly by and swept through before lighting a flare to signal the all clear. The place had been not been disturbed for centuries. If civilisation had ever reached these ruins there was no sign of it, not even scrawled warnings from raiders.

 

Kells had watched the Elder the entire journey. He had spoken only a handful of words to acknowledge they were going to be setting down. He had been lost in his own thoughts for some time.  


He had always noticed the slightest of habits the Elder had; when he was thinking his lips would move faintly as if the words were trying to be spoken rather than thought. There was no anger or sadness to the Elder even after the betrayal he had suffered, just the faint quiver of his lip and the slight flicker of his brow as he must have been running through plans and counter-strategies.  


The moment they were on the ground the Elder pulled his coat close to his body and dropped to the broken tarmac, dismissing the approaching Proctor Quinlan with a sharp look.

 

He surveyed the remainder of his forces and calculated what the fallout of the days events would be. The West-Coast Chapters had been snapping at his heels for some time, their support had been needed during the reunification and appreciated since then but in the last year they had grown impatient. He was beginning to understand why Lyons had chosen to splinter away from the Council of Elders.

 

The Commonwealth was supposed to be his proving achievement, the sign he was capable of leading without their constant scrutiny. Instead he had last half of his soldiers, very likely the confidence of those that remained, the two biggest military assets they possessed and with all that price paid they still had not stopped the threat of the Institute.

 

His lineage would only keep him in power for a short time before there would be a push for him to stand down. Whether it would come from the Council, his own Chapter, or both conspiring against him mattered little.

 

The other chapters were far enough away that he could refuse them for a while, a few well timed changes in the command staff could keep the dissent contained for a time, and a few carefully arranged incidents could keep the Councils agents in his ranks from stirring trouble, but no solution would last forever.

 

Eventually they would make a move to depose him. All he could do was use up what assets they had left to maintain his own grip on power.

 

In that moment, surveying his remaining forces and tallying the ones still loyal back at the Citadel, he knew his position was too precarious. He risked dragging the whole chapter down with him.

 

What he needed was two glasses of whisky, one for himself and the other for his most trusted adviser. He needed the council of a good man, the man he had trusted more than any other, the man he had ordered killed.

 

At the time the choice had been clear. Danse was a traitor, an infiltrator programmed to blend in until whatever mission it had been given was completed. He had thought the Paladin acted as his friend and guide only to poison his decisions and feed him dangerous advice. He had not once let himself doubt the truth of it, because doubt wa not somthing he could afford to have.  


Danse should have died, instead he let himself be dissuaded by an insubordinate Knight and his own clouded judgement. He had ordered a team to sweep Listening Post Bravo to cover what he had thought as a moment of vulnerability.He had ordered the Paladin into exile as a mercy, but his continued existence was a mark of weakness he could not afford in the middle of a war.

 

It had almost been a relief when the team reported back the site was abandoned.

 

He had gone back on the deal he had made with Knight Nathan, for the greater good. He had traded a little of his honour and honesty for security but gotten nothing for it. That had seemed to be a running theme of the campaign against the Institute; sacrifices without gain.

 

Seeing Danse on that beach had brought out his anger. His ship was aflame, his soldiers defecting from his side and his position slipping from his grasp. Danse had thrown himself into the line of fire to protect him, and it had been clear that the traitor, Nathan, was not his priority. Even with a gun to his head Danse had stood loyal. Maxson had seen the look of anger on his face, the quiet rage that burned away under the surface, not aimed toward him but at the Knight who had betrayed the Brotherhood.

 

The fate of the Commonwealth was now in the hands of an insubordinate traitor that could not be trusted with power. He felt responsible for leaving them to that fate.

 

With a frustrated intake of breath Maxson went about inspecting his forces and taking a mental count of who had sided with him. There were few surprises, what had once been the Outcasts were at his side nearly in their entirety along with a few of the older loyalists who had rallied against Lyons leadership. Nearly the entire command hierarchy was at his command still. What he lacked was the majority of young blood. Too many had idolised or respected Danse even after the news of his death.

 

He could see it in their movements, the way the younger ones were letting their weapon discipline fall lax as their fingers dancing over the trigger and the more experienced ones scanned every rooftop and corner. Paranoia and unease were running rampant.

 

The stop was intended to be short. The town was empty but the surrounding forests might not have been. Their arrival would attract attention very quickly and meant they had to move along quickly. Supermutant packs often roved the expanse between the old cities, and the sound of their arrival could stir up any ghoul packs that might be down in the sewers.

 

The Elder returned to his craft to find Proctor Ingram performing the last of the checks. He had expected her to have stayed behind with the new chapter.  
  
She saluted at his arrival.  
  
Maxson opened his mouth to speak, finding it dry from the prolonged silence. He coughed to regain his voice and tried again.  
  
“Proctor.” He watched as she careful set down what few tools they had left. “Strictly off the record. Why are you here?”

 

“Checking the engine for stress damage, sir.” She didn’t look at him as she said it, staring intently at the component she was inspecting so not to need to make eye contact.

 

“Not what I meant, and I think you know that.”

 

“You mean why didn't I side with Paladin Nathan and Paladin Danse?” She wiped the grease from her armoured fingers with a ragged cloth, dropping it back into her toolbox. It had been luck that it had been left aboard her Vertibird instead of packed away.  
  
“You have a history with both of them.” Maxson could see the slight indecision in her actions.

 

“I don't let personal feelings influence my professional decisions. My duty is to the Chapter and to the Elder until such time as I am released from my duty.” Her words were well rehearsed, likely in anticipation of this very meeting.  
  
“You've been known to bend the rules when beneficiary. I can recall several incidents of you leaving the Prydwen when ordered not to, all for the sake of the mission.”

 

“Sometimes the mission and doing what is right is more important than the orders and protocol. I took my disciplinary actions as an acceptable sacrifice.”

 

“Noble of you.” Maxson hadn't intended it to sound as harsh as it did.

 

On the other side of the square they had landed in several Scribes were salvaging tools from a hardware store, disseminating their find to the repair crews as quickly as they could.

 

“What about your mission?” Ingram reached in through the front canopy window and hit the ignition test. The smooth whir of motors sounded clear and brought a moment of satisfaction to her.

 

“My mission?”  
  
“The Institute, the Commonwealth. We were there for a year. And you're just giving up on all that work?”

 

“We have nothing left to give, not without risking more than we can afford to lose.” He took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. “We are finished, defeated.”

 

“What about the mission? To hell with the rest of it, the Institute is still a threat and we're abandoning the fight. We've left the war in the hands of a guerilla fighter and a soldier. Neither is a leader or tactician.”  
  
Maxson stopped to think for a moment, leaving the conversation hanging in the air.

 

“Scribe, I require pen and paper immediately.” Maxson flagged down a passing Scribe who stood bolt upright and terrified to be addressed directly by their Elder. “Find whoever is now the quartermaster and have them bring me a set of power armour and a gatling laser. I want it loaded onto this vertibird asap.”

 

They fled quickly to their task with a tense salute.

 

“Elder?” Proctor Ingram didn’t like the look of serenity that had passed into Maxsons features. He seemed too calm, the stormy expression faded and replaced with that palpable sense of purpose as strong as steel.

 

“I want an honest answer from you. If you were not bound by your duty would you have sided with the Commonwealth Chapter?” The intensity in the Elders ice blue eyes made the Proctor uncomfortable.

 

After a moment she nodded, steeled her resolve and responded properly.

 

“Yes.” She raised her head defiant, surprised to see the faintest trace of satisfaction at her answer.

 

The Scribe returned with the requested pen and paper, another following awkwardly in a suit of T-60 and carrying the requested weapon. They had a hard time climbing aboard, inexperienced as they were in its use. He noted the orange marking on the shoulder and wrist denoting the rank of Paladin.  


He took the stationary and scribbled down a short note upon it, signing it to guarantee the authenticity of the order. With it written he felt a massive weight of responsibility leave his shoulders and another take its place.

 

“Wait five minutes then hand this to Lancer-Captain Kells. Not a moment sooner, understood?”  
  
“Yes'sir.”

 

“Dismissed.”

 

“What are you planning?” The Proctor didn’t like the way he was almost smiling.

 

“Proctor Ingram, I hereby strip you of your rank and dismiss you from the service of this chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel.” He spoke with his voice of command before dropping back into his usual tone. “You are free to return to the Commonwealth. And you're taking me with you.”

 

“Elder.” the now former Proctor blinked once, words failing her. “Why?”

 

“You were right. The Institute needs to be stopped and we abandoned our mission. The Commonwealth needed the Brotherhood and we failed them.” Maxson stood tall, a little of his pride returning “There's nothing left for me at the Citadel, just the risk of starting a civil war that endangers the lives of too many brother and sister in steel. This is my responsibility to see through to the end.”

 

“What was written on that note?”

 

“My resignation, effective immediately.”

 

Ingram took a deep breath and let that thought settle. With a heavy exhale she let it go. Her path was already set, she was going back to where she belonged. Liberty Prime was the work of nearly a decade, a crowning achievement to her name as the Commonwealth was to be Maxsons.

 

She climbed aboard and dropped into the pilots seat flicking the switches for pre-flight systems and checking the responses.

 

“We haven’t got long then. Once Kells reads that note its official and this will be an act of theft and mutiny. Or would it be dereliction of duty?”

 

“Likely both. I suggest you make haste then.” Arthur Maxson smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks as they took off, heading northeast to a city that was about to turn into a crucible of war.

 

The last thing he saw out the side as they flew away from that long dead town was Kells and Quinlan coming to stop him.

 

“There's going to be consequences to this.” Ingram locked on the autopilot and turned to look at him. She had been surprised they were not pursued. “The Council of Elders might seek retribution for this.”

 

“They have been breathing down my neck for too long, to hell with them all. I let them influence me and I paid for it. No more. Its good to be free of them.”

 

“If I may speak freely sir.”

 

“Arthur, not sir. I'm not your commanding officer.”

 

“Are you talking about what happened to Danse?” She hadn’t expected the slight flinch.

 

“One regret amongst many. Paladin Danse was my friend, my adviser, my right hand. I had no choice.”

 

“The codex is clear what must be done with abominations.” She caught the flicker in his expression, the word 'abomination' raising the edge of a snarl for the slightest of moments.

 

“Sometimes doing what is right is more important than orders and protocol.” He repeated her words back to her. She let a slight snort of irritation free at it.

 

There was silence most of the way back to Boston, punctuated only by a burst of rich, deep laughter when Arthur realised that the mountain of paperwork he had been suffering through had been destroyed. It worried the now former Proctor.

 

With a sharp beep of warning the safeties were switched off and the engines were pushed harder than was advisable. The only time pilots were authorised to do it was when trying to outrun a radstorm. They needed to be back in the Commonwealth as soon as possible and they both knew they wouldn’t be needing to make a return trip either way it went. The engines sputtered and started to fail just as Boston crested the horizon, dying just as they reached the outer edge of the city.

 

The landing was perfectly executed, a mechanical grinding and the smell of burnt metal signalling something had failed internally.  
  
Ingram tore the control panel off and made certain to destroy as much of the system as she could. They couldn't risk it falling into raider hands even in such dire condition.

 

Maxson was in his armour now with a weapon comfortably raised. He felt a lot more like a soldier than he had in too long.

 

“Where to then, Arthur?”

 

“Cambridge Station. We need to make things right again.”

 

 

 


	2. Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The remaining parts going forward, vaguely stitched together. These parts are very raw, some with no editing beyond typos.

 

Danse was not as happy as he should have been. Haylen was at his right, a slightly stunned Rhys at his left and Brandis a few paces behind him. He was nearly at the head of an army, elbow to elbow with his Brothers and Sisters where he belonged.

 

Their new Elder had delegated all work to him. He was effectively the Elder now, in all but title. He was quite certain that was how it was always intended to be.

 

Somewhere along the way Nate had acquired a tattered Brotherhood flag. Danse had initially thought it was draped over Liberty Primes shoulder like some kind of battle standard. He was disappointed but not particularly surprised to find out Elder Nathan was wearing it like a cape whilst riding the robot toward the Institute. The rest of the Chapter didn't seem to mind, it was a vivid image that come morning would be on the front page of the Publick Occurrence. It was exactly what the Commonwealth needed to see.

 

 

_The attack on the Institute would have gone here. The initial attack goes well, Prime cracks the roof open and the Brotherhood drops in, the Railroad and Minutemen are relayed in once they get control of the system as the Goodneighbour security forces come up from below. It all starts falling apart as all four allied factions struggle to cooperate toward a single goal, made worse by Nathan vanishing to deal with his own personal issues rather than leading them._

 

_The SRB is buried under a mountain of rubble, the Railroad breaking off from the rest of the attack to strike that blow personally._

 

_Maxson shows up with the Cambridge staff to make certain the operation he had been planning for months actually goes off properly. He basically takes control of a portion of the Brotherhood forces by pulling the rank of Paladin, what was on his borrowed armour, leading anybody he can rally without letting them know just who he is. He keeps his helmet on, the voice modulator set to very low quality._

 

_Danse and Nathan never encounter each other within the Institute, Danse only knows of his rough movements from reports over the shared radio frequencies. Maxson was going to have a dramatic entrance jumping off a higher floor down to rescue Danse and his team, trying very hard to hide his identity and failing. Danse sees right through him. There was going to be a tense standoff between them, Danse still more concerned that his presence could get him in trouble when they are interrupted by Nate over the radio..._

 

 

 

 

“We have a problem.” The radio crackled to life, Nate only just heard over weapons fire.

 

“Status.” Danse barked down the line, turning away from Maxson.

 

“The bomb, its sustained damage. I can arm it, but I can't guarantee the timer works. If I leave it here they could disarm it, if it even goes off.”

 

“I'll relay in a team to fix it.”

 

“Good luck with that. Sturges and Deacon already tried it. I'm outside of internal sensor range and external sensors were damaged in the fighting. We can only relay out, and only from the core of the facility.”

 

“We need a change of plan, now.”

 

“Already solved it. Never make a bomb you can't manually detonate.”

 

“That's not a solution.”

 

“You told me you were willing to die for the cause, why can't I?” Nate sounded mockingly offended.

 

“Unacceptable.”

 

“Are you on the line Deacon.”

 

“That I am boss.”

 

“Is everyone out?”

 

“Don't do it Deacon, that's an order.”

 

“You're a bit big and burly to be Des, and she's the only one I take orders from. Sometimes take orders from. I take suggestions from her.” There was a moment of silence as Deacon scrutinised the screen in front of him. “There are thirty two lifesigns this system can't identify. That should be our people. i'll start relaying them out now.”

 

“Don't do it.”

 

“Already in the queue, can't stop it now.”

 

Danse felt the lightning strike, his vision dazzled momentarily.

 

“Don't let the Brotherhood slide back into their old ways.”

 

“This is pointless. Are you doing this because of us?”

 

“I'm not that petty. Well, actually I can be, but its not that.” Nate had a moment of introspection. “I'm not the leader the Brotherhood needs, you are. This way works well. I die for the cause, remembered as a hero and power passes to you.”

 

“This isn't right.”

 

“Goodbye.”

 

Nate stopped firing his weapon into the empty room and let the relay carry him out of the facility, tapping the still very much intact timer on the way out.

 

Five seconds later the Institute vanished in a wave of fire and radiation.

 

 

 

_Here was going to be a scene of them arriving by relay onto the rooftop, watching the Institute go up in flames. Maxson and Danse would have a long conversation about what would happen next. I never decided if Maxson was going to go off north with a handful of followers to found a new Brotherhood, stay with the Commonwealth chapter as a Paladin, or something else entirely._

 

_The victors set up a field triage camp near the Institute crater so they can be certain its all destroyed._

 

 

Curie gently touched Danses arm, her eyes wide and filled with the question of how he was holding up. With a brief nod he acknowledged her concern and let her return to her work.

 

The Railroad had their own field tent overlooking the crater, Danse strongly suspecting it was only there so that their agents could activate their stealthboys one at a time and disappear without raising too much scrutiny.

 

Danse parted the entrance flap, greeted by Desdemona and a few others surveying a map. As a gesture of good faith he ejected from his armour and approached slowly, setting Righteous Authority down on the folding table.

 

Desdemona seemed no worse for wear, though oddly she was wearing a set of distinct sunglasses that were most definitely Deacons.

 

“Could I have a word with you?” He looked at Carrington and the heads of the other safehouses. “In private.”

 

Desdemona simply made a gesture, the rest scattering until it was just the leaders of the Railroad and Brotherhood alone.

 

“So what could be important enough for the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel to even talk to a civilian like me?” Her tone was stiff and serious but there was just the barest hint of a smile and just enough inflection to her words that Danse understood he was being mocked.

 

“Just something I thought to run by you, to get your opinion on.” He took a shallow breath as if he had been considering and rehearsing the point for some time. “Its all very neat how its worked out. Elder Nathan died in the explosion as a martyr for the cause, I inherited the Brotherhood as his second in command and the Commonwealth is united. There’s just a few things I cannot reconcile.”

 

Danse look was intense, watching Desdemona foir even the slightest flicker of subterfuge.

 

“And that is?”

 

“Too many coincidences surrounding his death. The fact he reported being pinned down and outnumbered despite the rest of our troops reporting minimum resistance remaining. The relay system failing just in time to trap him with a damaged explosive that could only be detonated manually. His last order that there was to be peace and cooperation. It was all very textbook, a perfect heroes death.”

 

“You suspect he staged it somehow?”

 

“The sensor network established to track inbound relay was taken down while we were assaulting the Institute. It was done over a period of time by someone who knew exactly where to look for the sensor beacons. I suspect the damage will match that of a baseball bat. Every site was hit, except for three that had yet to be reported and logged properly. They picked up two small readings after the molecular relay supposedly went down. Anything you would like to tell me?”

 

“If there was something going on I was not privy to it, but I doubt there was anything. I was constantly kept up to date on everything by radio, I got a first hand account of the relay being damaged from...” There was a moment of pause as Desdemona sighed heavily. “...Deacon.”

 

“Any other witness to corroborate that story?”

 

“Deacon was the last of my agents out, barring the obvious exception.”

 

“Where is he?”

 

“He left a little while ago. He gave me these and told me to keep them.” Desdemona took the sunglasses off and held them in her hands, swallowing hard as she understood that there might have been another meaning behind it. “I don’t think he's coming back.”

 

“It was only a matter of time before it happened. He always gave the impression he was just waiting for a reason to disappear, covering for Nathan is as good a reason as any.”

 

“There's no guarantee its him. You detected two readings, but he was alone down there. One of the Directorate and a Courser bodyguard makes just as much sense. We never did find Doctor Ayo, though I hope he was buried with the rest of the SRB.”

 

“I ask that this stays between us.”

 

“Of course, secrets are our speciality.” Desdemona put the sunglasses back on. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“A better question, how do you feel about him? Not as Elder, Paladin, Knight, Charmer or General. As Nathan?”

 

Danse considered the question for a moment in silence, eyes cast downwards.

 

“I don’t know. He betrayed me in more than one way, I don’t know if he deserves forgiveness.”

 

“He probably doesn't, but I suggest you go after him. If for no other reason than closure.” She quite quickly understood why Deacon wore the glasses now, worried her eyes betrayed the fact she was actually concerned for Danse. He was an ally at best, a future threat at worst. “Go armed though. For both eventualities.”

 

“I won't get another chance to say this, but thank you for everything you did. You put your own organisation at risk to help me, and even though I know you were only serving your own ends I appreciate it. And I wont forget it either. No matter what happens I’ll honour the agreements we've made.”

 

“I'm glad to hear that.”

 

“If you'll excuse me, I think I have something I need to do.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

 

_A slightly different version of the Institute assault had Nathan simply vanish after the fighting is over rather than use it for a deception, but Danse still goes after him. This was the aftermath of that..._

 

 

“I should have known I would find you here.” Danse trudged into the room in his new armour, bearing the markings of Sentinel proudly.

 

Nate was slumped up against the wall, staring blankly ahead. There was a quiet sense of defeat to the way he held himself, his shoulders were low and his face impassive.

 

“I needed somewhere to hide for a while, think things through. Where better than where it all began.” Listening Post Bravo was exactly as it had been left.

 

“Its fairly noticeable when the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel disappears right after a major victory.” Danse released himself from the power armour, stepping up to where Nate was sat.

 

“You're the Elder now in everything but name. You should be out there leading them, not here worrying about me. I suppose you followed me to have that serious talk i've been running from.”

 

“I thought to ask you about why you lied to me, or for how long. I just want some honest answers from you and to know where we stand.”

 

“We as in us together?” Nate looked right at him.

 

“Potentially.” He caught the flicker of hope. “I want some honesty from you first. Everything you've been hiding out in the open.” Danse sat across from him.

 

“I didn’t tell you because i knew exactly how you would react. You have gone to Maxson rather than let me gamble on being able to take Elder.”

 

“The Codex has rules for challenging the Elder. You chose to ignore it.”

 

“Who would sponsor my challenge? You?” Nate suppressed the frustration. He had already thought out that path to exhaustion. “We'd have to fight our way to him, how many would have to die?”

 

“There had to be another way.”

 

“We were on the precipice of war. I took the option that best gave everyone a chance.” Nate was not backing down, matching Danses stare with his own.

 

“What about Liberty Prime. You managed to take control of it, how?”

 

“The Institute gave me the virus in exchange for using it to destroy the Railroad, Brotherhood and Minutemen with it.” He shrugged.

 

“Why?”

 

“I think you know why.”

 

“I mean why did they trust you? Thats the part i've been unable to work out, you walked into the Institute and managed to just convince them you were on their side?”

 

“This is one lie I intend to keep, so you cannot repeat what I tell you to anybody for any reason.” Nate considered a lie and gave up on it quickly. “They trusted me because my son was the Director, Shaun gave me clearance.”

 

“You told everyone your son was dead.”

 

“He might as well have been. The Director was a monster, there was nothing of my son left in him.”

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Backwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are alternative versions of some scenes, parts that were cut or ideas unused going backwards this time from the end. The first part is somewhat NSFW. A lot of these parts are also unedited.

 

 

 _'A New Day' originally had a sex scene in it, of which only the last part remains. I used the rest of it for the scene that did make it in, in the chapter 'Alpha, Orange' . As a side note nobody picked up on, or at least mentioned that they noticed, that Danses override command was_ **A** lpha, **O** range 1 1 **3**.   
  
There's this idea I adore in a lot of older literature about the wheel of fate, that a characters hubris should always hit them at their highest point. I moved the sex scene to be the highest point of the wheel, just before the fall, every attempt at sexual intimacy interrupted until that point. Nate goes from a high to committing an awful betrayal that destroys his relationship.  


 

 

 

Nate was arching his back, biting his lip and riding the wave of pleasure. There was something between a purr and a growl in his throat, Danse's name on his lips spoken half begging, half demanding.

 

It was what threw Danse over the edge. Bucking upwards twice, deeply and strongly, digging his fingers into hips his own climax was drawn out.

 

Nate shivered as he felt it happen, the grin he wore arrogant and victorious. He ground down against him, entranced by the way his Paladins eyes shot open and he drew short, sharp breaths through his nose in time with his pulse.

 

It was only when the Paladin became still, having ridden it to the end did Nate draw in a deep breath as Danse pulled out carefully.

 

He dropped down onto his chest, letting a heavy sigh loose against his neck. They were both exceptionally warm, the cold air of the room doing little to cool their damp skin.

 

“Well that was better than any training exercise.” Danse spoke into the hanging silence, a smile on his lips.

 

“I'm hungry now.” was all Nate muttered in response.

 

There was a swarm of thoughts in his head, all fighting for attention. He had wanted Danse for a long time, first as what he had thought was a passing lust for an attractive but unattainable officer, a challenge that his pride wanted to take up. With time it had become a desire for friendships and comradeship, Gladius like a family. From there it had become a pining, a want to be around Danse and be involved with him. Haylen had tried to warn him off that path not too long ago.

 

He had gotten what he had initially set out to have. He had daydreamed of it more than a few times, and Danse had certainly not disappointed those fantasies, but instead he found that it hadn’t filled the desire he thought he wanted satisfied. Seeing his face contorted with pleasure, and then softly smiling and basking in afterglow was what he had wanted. Danse being happy felt right to him.

 

Danse put his hands around Nate's hips and rolled, momentarily on top of him and pinning him down under his considerable bulk. All thoughts were dismissed as he was caught off off guard and lost in his own head.

 

“Somebodies taking charge?” Nate smirked up at him, mind racing with possibilities. It sounded more like a statement than a question. “Ready to go around again, sir?”

 

“Not just yet, Soldier.” Danse rolled his eyes, climbing free and looking about the room for where his clothing had been discarded.

 

As he stood he felt a chorus of complaints from his body. Nate did nothing by half measures, his love making just like his preference for weaponry: violent, dangerous and explosive.

 

Bruises dotted his neck and chest, the remnants of a lot of biting and scratching. His hips were strained too; it felt like he had ran a marathon in improperly powered power armour.

 

Nate was looking very contented, a slight redness about his thighs in the shape of handprints and another set around his shoulders.

 

Danse let a laugh free, something in his private thoughts amusing him.  
  


If Nate was more inclined to poetry he would have described Danses laugh as being like the sound of a hammer striking steel. Instead his mind went pleasantly blank, too blank to think of any apt metaphor.

 

When Danse looked in his direction he could see how far away Nate was, and could not recognise just what that look meant after months of misinterpretation and perhaps a little wilful ignorance.

 

 

 

 

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_The deleted first half of 'Get this Freakshow on the Road'. I didn’t like it, it broke the pacing and it said too much, with too many words, for not enough payoff. Nate was going to use Glorys memory as a backup plan, if everything went wrong she would have the backup codes needed to fix Danse and Sturges.  
_

 

 

 

Nate refused to acknowledge his presence. He was just there in the corner of his eye, leaning against the wall with a cigarette and a look like he knew something that mildly amused him. He was only there in his peripheral vision, so long as he didn't let him in that was where he would remain. He was aware that if he concentrated hard enough he would simply be dismissed.

 

He tried very hard to remember the bite of Desdemonas tea on the first sip, the curve and shape of the pot, and the golden colour it turned when properly brewed. He almost got it right, mildly disappointed when something about it in the centre of the planning table seemed just slightly wrong. With a frustrated wave it vanished, reforming again marginally closer to what it was supposed to be.

 

He looked down at the table and thought the invitation. Something passed through him, a moments recollection that was not entirely his own. He could feel the taste of cigarettes and bad coffee, the frustration of paperwork keeping him from being out on the streets doing his job. Those where not the right memories. He could feel the apology from Nick, and then lightning flash of the right memories. Her thoughts were razor sharp, and a little alien perhaps. Just a little too fast, too exact to be quite human.

 

When he looked back up Glory was sitting across from him. She wasn’t quite right either, but in a way he knew was not a product of his own mind. She seemed perhaps a little bigger, a little stronger, and something else a little more intangible. She was there as she saw herself, not as he saw her.

 

“Hello.” She seemed oddly at peace, one elbow rested against the table.

 

“Hi.” Nate felt his voice crack slightly, coughing to cover it up. She was not fooled in the slightest.

 

“Is this your goodbyes? I thought Deacon would have been in here with you?” She eyed the room, noting how some of the details were just slightly off. The human perspective was always a little flawed.

 

“You're oddly calm about this.”

 

“Its the meat parts that get all bent out of shape about this kind of thing. I'm just the machine winding down until the end. How much power do I have left?” Her shrug was slow, unconcerned.

 

“Several hours of active use, a few weeks otherwise.”

 

Glory made a 'hmm' of thought, deciding how best to proceed.

 

“You want something obviously, and I know you well enough to tell that you're not supposed to be here. Deacon wouldn’t have let you go in alone, so he doesn’t know, and Des wouldn’t have approved of it either.” She idly picked Nate apart, summoning a snack cake from her memories and taking a bite. She put the rest of it down, letting it fade with a disappointed look when it simply tasted of nothing.

 

“I need you to remember something for me. Its important.”

 

There was a moment as the images gathered, their edges indistinct as if Nate was reluctant to give them form inside the simulation.

 

“I love you Danse.” Glory looked at the second Nathan brought up from his memories. She watched the arch of his shoulder and what he probably thought was a subtle movement as he activated his pipboy.

 

“I know.” Danse tensed, the muscles of his throat going tight. His fist clenched slightly.

 

“Are you going to kill me?” Nates voice was off. It wasn’t fear, she thought he sounded like he was stalling for time.

 

“No. If you have any sense I suggest you get out of the Commonwealth, what we had is worth giving you that chance.” Danse turned to leave.

 

“Am I a good person?”

 

“I don’t know anymore.” Danse turned back briefly.

 

“That makes this a lot easier I suppose. M7-97 override code. Alpha, orange, one, one, three.”

 

The memory faded.

 

“You screwed up.” Glory announced with finality.

 

“I'm aware.” He sighed, unable to meet her rather piercing look. “I need you to remember, so this can be fixed if something goes wrong. There's more.”

 

Sturges was leaning against the workbench, the scenery around him flickering as if trying to adapt to the setting. The memory was of elsewhere, fighting to fit.

 

There was a door floating between the shelves, Nate opening it very slowly so it didn’t make a noise. His steps were measured, timed so they landed each time Sturges hammered the bent piece of metal he was working on back into shape.

 

“S2-56 override code. Gamma, ochre, five, seven, two.”

 

Glory could see it in the half moment where he turned. There was only one reason for his designation to be spoken like that. Sturges had thought the Coursers had finally found him, to take him back to the Institute and tear his life from his mind and bind him into slavery again.

 

The memory faded.

 

“I cannot do anything to you like this, not as a memory. But if I could I would be breaking every bone in your body. Why are you showing me this horrorshow?”

 

“I might die.” Nate shrugged as if it was a small thing to say. “If I do then I’m leaving it to you to remember, to get anybody left to fix this.”

 

“This isn’t like you. This isn’t right.”

 

“Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. I'm not stupid enough to leave it to chance if I'm not there to fix it. Sturges was my friend, maybe more than that, i'm not leaving him with a piece missing if I can help it.”

 

“What about Danse?”

 

“Its complicated. I have to balance my desire to be with him, or failing that to see him happy again, against the needs of the Commonwealth.”

 

“I cant see how those are in any way connected.”

 

“Take a look.” Nate dropped his mental defences, knowing full well that she could recall anything he knew as if they were her own so long as he let her.

 

He could feel the tug of it, Danse first, then Desdemona, Deacon, Danse again, Sturges and then Shaun which seemed to darken her expression. He felt the way Des looked at him, then the laugh deep in his chest when Deacon said something witty, then the ghost of Danses hands against his skin. He slammed the link shut when he felt exactly what she was looking at.

 

With pursed lips and a look of irritation she stopped searching.

 

 

 

 

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_I wrote this as a sort of flashback. After the big reveal of Nathans plan there was going to be a chapter of just flashbacks to all of the missing scenes and parts that were kept deliberately vague the first time around. I dropped the idea entirely, other than writing this part._

 

 

 

He clenched his eyes shut. Either the code worked and Danse was no longer there or it hadn’t and Danse would know exactly what he had tried to do.

 

He slowly open his eyes, almost afraid to see if it had worked.

 

“Danse?” No response.

 

The Paladin was stood bolt straight, eyes staring unblinkingly forward.

 

“I'm sorry.” M7-97 looked passively down at him, blinking once and awaiting a command. “Danse? Please?”

 

There was no acknowledgement, no shift in attitude or demeanour.

 

He put his hand gently to Danse's chest and felt the faint rhythm of his heartbeat. It pulsed evenly and steadily.

 

The room was too hot, too confined, he brought his hand up to his collarbone out of habit to release the pressure seal of his armour. When his finger brushed cloth and skin he realised he wasn’t wearing it, that crawling sensation that he needed to be out of it still pressing at him.

 

His a shudder he forced himself to focus. With a deep inhale and slow exhale he put his mind back where it needed to be.

 

He looked to the pipboy for the list of commands he would need whilst trying not to look up at his frozen partner.

 

“Edit memory. Amend the last hour of memory to not include any interaction with Sturges or myself, including all information gathered from those interactions. Confirm all changes are successful.”

 

“Amendments to memory confirmed.” The voice was Danse's but the tone was blank and neutral, barely recognisable. It reminded him of X6-88, but only when he was within the walls of the Institute itself.

 

“Restore function in thirty seconds.” Nate turned and left the room at a dead sprint.

 

Slumping up against the shifting wall he let the shudders wrack his body, trying to get the urge to throw up to pass. He still felt confined, no matter how much he looked at his bare arms he could feel the servos and pistons against them.

 

His heart was pounding in his chest and his eyes felt like they were burning.

 

He could recall this happening a few times before the bombs fell. During the Canadian insurrections he had been there, battling the civilian militias during the deepest part of winter. The memory was fuzzy, hard to grasp. He could recall the fighting, and his armour feeling too confined as they were split up and forced to retreat back to field HQ. He'd ejected from his power armour, throwing himself into a snowbank until his fingers were numb and his uniform soaked and freezing solid. It wasn’t too long before his transfer. He hated that of all of the memories he had somehow retained those few were the strongest.

 

He steeled his resolve, straightened himself up and walked back into the main room.

 

 

 

 

 

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_A much earlier draft on the last few chapters had Danse being told the assault on the Prydwen was a day later than it really was. Rather than being assigned a different task away from the frontlines he was altogether shut out of the plan and left at Old Church._

 

 

 

 

Danse paced with irritation. He had been working on a laser modification on and off for hours,

 

He couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong, he had been left there with only a few other members whilst Deacon, Desdemona and Nate went out on an important mission.

 

They had gotten desperate and were entreating the Gunners for help, Deacon and Desdemona had chosen to go with Nate to add weight to their claim and leverage their reputations. Danse had protested against the decision, overruled by all present.

 

He had been chosen to stay behind whilst they were out dealing with a very volatile group, the Railroad leaders not wanting to leave their headquarters without protector. Danse had wanted to go with them and was completely refused.

 

They hadn't stated where they were going to be meeting or when. When he had asked they had all just dismissing his questions as 'worrying too much' and going back to their preparations. That put him on edge.

 

 

 

_Right here was a bit of him working on his weapon that I recycled into an earlier chapter, interrupted by the room trembling from the first explosion. Danse immediately knows something has happened. He finds his armour is mysteriously missing its core, so he steals the one powering Old Church instead..._

 

 

Once in his armour he put the helmet torch on. Telling the other few Railroad members to stay where they were.

 

He took Righteous Authority, slotting in a power cell. The coils warmed to the flow of power, a faint thrum of activity inside. It would likely need more maintenance, but he could see no reason for it not to function.

 

Danse had to pry open the false wall by hand, the gears grinding angrily as he did so. He could see the motor had been disabled, he would have been effectively trapped there if he couldn’t power up his armour.

 

He reached the surface just in time for another explosion to thunder from afar. With a cold, sinking feeling he knew it was coming from across the water, from the airport. The Brotherhood was under attack. They needed him now, damn the consequences he was not going to let his Brothers and Sisters in steel down.

 

He sprinted his way there as fast as he could, ducking past a band of raiders drawn out by the noise. He passed the graveyard, over a bridge, and could make out Bunker Hill nearby when a third explosion happened. The settlement was unmanned, the usual Minuteman patrol nowhere to be seen.

 

It was only when he was past County Crossing with the Prydwen in sight did he see what was happening. The engines were burning and belching thick smoke, vertibirds shuttling back and forth. He could make out the outline of Liberty Prime stomping forward beyond the racetrack, with what appeared to be a Brotherhood Soldier perched on his shoulder.

 

He could hear the edge of that damned song catching on the wind, Flight of the Valkyries. Gladius' unofficial rally to war.

 

Danse instantly felt that suspicious instinct rise in him, the one that told him when Nate was about to do something that would lead to yet another improper conduct hearing in front of Maxson and the Proctors.

 

He had stopped to gawk so much that he failed to notice the group coming up behind him. It was only when they patted him heavily on the shoulder did he snap back to reality. He had heard the hiss of power armour servos and for a brief time forgotten that was the sound of danger now.

 

They were in power armour, heavily decorated with flame patterns.

 

“We're at the front of the line, hurry yourself up. Guys in 'cans to Jack, he's leading this party.” Danse was shoved playfully by the Atom Cat leading the others. They clearly thought he was part of this, the Railroad symbol on his chest confirming it. This was the attack they had been planning, a day early and he had been deliberately excluded from it. Prime was not part of the plan and neither was the Prydwen being attacked.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Danse tried not to sound like Brotherhood. He was glad his armour had its markings scrubbed off.

 

He fell into step with them.

 

Liberty Prime stopped, the figure dropping from its hull. A single vertibird landed nearby, the unmistakable silhouette of Maxson charging to confront the one who had rode in on Prime.

 

Danse was certain by that point that Nate was the one arguing with Maxson.

 

He watched Nate raise his hand into the air.

 

The Prydwen was consumed by flame in an instant.

 

The heat washed over him, the Atom Cats cheering and throwing their hands into the air and feeling the warmth and force of it.

 

Danse could just make out the Atom Cats chattering to themselves.

 

 

 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

 

 

 

_A different version of the confrontation with Maxson. This was from before the shield idea came to me. At all._

 

 

Maxson looked on with quiet rage, that arrogant smirk a taunting invitation to violence. He knew full well that path would lead only to death and it would cripple the east coast Brotherhood beyond saving. This had been all been calculated carefully and the deck was stacked against him: he could either surrender and take the dishonour but guarantee the survival and potentially the future strength of the Brotherhood, he could go out fighting and doom them all, or he could accept the duel to the death in which case Paladin Nathan would simply elect Liberty Prime to act as his champion.

 

“Paladin Nathan.” Nate froze on the spot at the voice, cursing that they hadn’t kept him busy for long enough. He had used his title, and that only ever came before he got a dressing down from his commanding officer. “I should have known there was more than you were telling me.”

 

The crowd parted, Danse stood in his power armour with a furrowed brow. Nate noted that Sturges and Desdemona were behind him. The Railroad leader shook her head subtly with a stern expression, a warning to him to keep his guard up.

 

The Brotherhood started chattering amongst themselves again.

 

“You dare bring that abomination here.” Maxson spat. “M7-97 override code, Orange...” Nate raised the trigger and pressed it three times, pointing it toward the landing site. One of the parked vertibirds exploded in nuclear fire, the sound drowning out what Maxson had tried to say. The Minutemen dropped into a gunline stance, weapons drawn. The Brotherhood tensed as if ready to charge.

 

There was silence instantly when everyone heard the thrum of Liberty Prime charging it head mounted weapon. Nate was pointing a pistol and the laser targeter at Maxson, a small red dot on his chest consumed by a much brighter targeting sight from above.

 

The Brotherhood bristled, watching with bated breath to see if he was going to take the leadership with bloodshed.

 

“You really don't want to test my mercy.” He brushed his thumb over the safety, locking it again and making a show of putting it back in its holster slowly and visibly. The laser dot stayed. “Looks like you'll have to carpool back to the Citadel, my apologies.”

 

“This has gone too far.” Danse put himself between Nate and Maxson, the brilliant smile Nate was wearing dropped instantly as Prime adjusted his target by a few degrees. “I trusted you.”

 

He just had to looked at the ruins of the Prydwen and the unhinged smile on Nate's face to know what a mistake that had been.

 

If those words had an impact there was no outward indication. Nate was projecting nothing but arrogance and control.

 

Nate pointed the laser upwards away from Danse and released.

 

 

 

_Almost word for word the 'liberty prime shooting at the moon' part goes here, then the big speech Nathan was preparing._

 

 

 

“Letting you live was a mistake.” Maxson barely said it, only Danse and Nathan hearing it. He was seeing them whipped into the kind of fervour he had brought them to years ago during the retaking of the Capital Wastes and reuinification with the Outcasts. 

 

“Casting out a loyal Paladin was the mistake. The only reason you didn’t burn with your ship is because you showed Danse mercy and I am repaying that now. If things had happened differently back then I would have made certain you were dead.” Nate held up the trigger again as a warning.

 

“I really cannot believe you're doing this.” Danse spoke low, his expression that same aimlessness he wore the night of his execution. His words were barely audible over the cries of war, the only sign Nate had heard was the slight glance in his direction. It didn’t go missed by anybody that he had fallen into his old place at Maxsons right side.

 

“We can talk about this later, properly. I need you at my side now more than ever.” Nate would have held onto his hand if they weren’t both in power armour. He wasn’t certain Danse would take his hand if he offered it.

 

 

 

 

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_A plot thread I decided was not worth pursuing. Kinda wish a had. Nick helps Nate dig into his memories to see if he is or is not a synth, instead Nate subverts it to gain information he needs. It was part of Nate betraying everyones trust one by one, all for his own ideal of the greater good. In the final version Nick is one of the few people Nathan doesn't overtly use._

 

 

“Would you leave us a moment, i would like to say some things in private.”

 

“I understand.” Amari graciously bowed out, leaving the pair to talk.

 

Nick had a look on his face of quiet amusement, his stance unusually slouched and at ease.

 

“Its been a while.” Kellogg said plainly, shrugging Nicks body languidly.

 

“I need something from you.”

 

“I can guess. Nick can't see it, but I can. I know the actions of a betrayer when I see them.”

 

 


End file.
